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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24880690">iv. gemini feed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/impxria/pseuds/orphxus'>orphxus (impxria)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, he can have some feelings . as a Treat, that's him your honor. the love of my life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 11:01:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,797</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24880690</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/impxria/pseuds/orphxus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">[ iv. the emperor. ]</span>
</p>
<p>  <span class="small">( — devoid of anything remotely human. )</span></p>
<p>  <span class="small"> ( misc. oneshots of belial / reader )</span></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Belial (Granblue Fantasy)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. touch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <span class="small">me @ belial initially: sexi. hate that mans</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="small">me, now: i have to psychoanalyze you im gnna give you even more feelings</span>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="small">“i hate you, i really do.” the words fail to come out smoothly, shaky breaths breaking a weak facade. red eyes gaze at you, and you almost dare think that there was something unreadable in his countenance before he grins in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">“just like a broken record.” belial laughs, pressing a kiss against your chest. you’re almost afraid he’ll hear the racing of your heart. “i might be wrong, but it sounds like you say that to convince yourself, no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">it takes you but a moment to stare at him in exasperation, annoyance clear on your face as he raises a brow. <i>oh, you absolutely do hate him</i>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">“so sorry,” come the dry words, “should we stop and talk about our feelings towards each other or should we just fuck and get it over with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">“what a dirty mouth you have, love. there are better uses for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">such sweet malice that resonates in a single word of affection; you cannot tell if you despise it all the more. your thoughts are interrupted when his lips press against yours and the warmth of his body is more distracting than you’d like to admit. but you are much too tense underneath him, your mind struggling with the idea of giving yourself to him yet again. it’s nothing new, this little routine of yours, but the guilt is all the same in its heaviness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">he knows this; he always has. even in the nights where he feels the war raging in your heart and he pulls away, you always manage to get him back in your grasp, and oh, how much he hates to admit that you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. little by little, slowly and carefully, he unravels you, and in the end, you wake up with a different kind of soreness that runs through your body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">—<i>ah</i>, but there is little fun to be found in such sentiments, so he disregards those foolish thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">“relax,” he murmurs against your ear, lips ghosting across your skin as his hands slide down your thighs, “i’ll play nice.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. love is not designed for the cynical</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <span class="small">cw: breath play? / choking</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">i will fight both god and belial and i will lose to one of them ( belial )<br/>beginning quote from dermot kennedy</span>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="small"></span></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <span class="small">( and when i'm face to face with death,<br/>
i'll grab his throat and ask him:<br/>
<i>how does it hurt</i>? )</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span class="small">.    .    .</span>
  </p>
</div><span class="small">you do not think he will kill you-- not now, but perhaps in the days to come. how funny it would be, you think, one hand wrapped around his throat as the other laces your fingers with his, and oh, <i>how forgiving it would be</i>. to be in love is to play a fool’s role, and so strangely is it that you fit it. the fallen, on the other hand, you wonder--</span><p>
  <span class="small">his version of love too depraved and ugly and corrupt-- but what is yours? you are no better than him, comes the reminder. there are no absolutes in this world, and little value does virtue have anymore-- so what is it about you that makes yourself better-- superior? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">nothing, you suppose. but you don’t like to pay much attention to those things, ignoring the fleeting feelings of inferiority that creep into your mind when he touches you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“thinking about something other than me?” belial says, grinning when he notices the slack in your grip. “you know how much i like your attention.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“almost too much, i’d say. but i think we all know who you’re really desperate for, and it’s not me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">still, he grins. you hate it, so you slow the movement of your hips as if that would be some sort of punishment ( but he doesn’t mind; sometimes he likes it slow, and in the end, it’s only you that it annoys ).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i didn’t pin you as the jealous type.” he laughs. “and all this time, i thought you hated me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">if you search for a hatred in your soul, then it would be too easy to find. but to describe the feeling is miserable and even you cannot address the depth of it. it’s complex for all the wrong reasons, this ebb and flow. how disgustingly tragic, to even fathom the thought that you might care for this man in the most twisted of ways. there is iron in your throat and the taste of it makes you feel sick when you acknowledge that he would never feel the same towards you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">the annoyed countenance has softened into something else he does not recognize. maybe he has said the wrong thing-- he has a tendency to do that, he supposes, but your reaction now is not something he commonly sees. you release him from your grasp, the cold air hitting his skin too quickly for his liking. instead, your hands rest on his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he watches your movements, fingers ghosting over your hips as if you were something holy to him ( but that would never happen, would it? )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">belial’s breath hitches when you ride him, the pace fast and steady as his skin slaps against yours in desperation. you don’t want to look at him. you don’t want to see him, and you don’t want him to see the shame that makes the remnants of your heart wither away. and god, even with everything you have, not even you can make these feelings go away despite the sensations of pleasure that wash over your body as he thrusts into you from below.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“—look at me.” he says, but the words lack command. “let me see you feel good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">so you do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you lost your pride long ago, and you’ve known it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you look at him, lips slightly bloodied from your failed attempts to stifle your voice; the weakness and inferiority swallows you whole. but the grin on his face is long gone and replaced with a solemness-- but belial isn’t <i>that</i> human, you remind yourself, <i>you are just too desperate for him to feel something.</i></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“happy now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you wait for the snide response, but it doesn’t come. he stares, and you feel as if your soul has been striped bare. what an ugly feeling, this vulnerability. it surprises you when he sits up, arms wrapping around your waist before his lips capture yours.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">it’s wretched and aching and yearning and <i>comforting</i>-- and you think that one day or another, you will pray to the gods for forgiveness for this damned night. but you kiss him even harder, and now, he is the one who tastes iron.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i hate you.” you whisper against his lips. you cannot hide the shakiness in your voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i’m honored.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“you should be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he smiles and kisses you again, softly.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. wrath; ( the violence / rage evokes )</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="small"></span></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <span class="small">( you decide if darkness knows you well )</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span class="small">.    .    .</span>
  </p>
</div><span class="small">there’s blood all over your bodies, and not all of it yours.</span><p>
  <span class="small">( neither of you can tell whose is whose,<br/>
belial grins-- <i>that’s what makes it fun</i>. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“the day of reckoning will come,” you growl, head pounding as the thrill of the fight rushes through your veins.<br/>
“and i’ll kill you a thousand times over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">the knife at his throat brings absolute exhilaration, red eyes gazing into yours. there is such intense rage in your countenance, he notices; the beauty of it almost makes him delirious from excitement. how long has it been, he wonders, since he has last felt this alive?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( &amp; <i>oh</i>, how <i>close</i> to death he could be. <i>it would be so easy</i>. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">your armor is ripped and tattered in the throes of war, vulnerability found where your skin is barren. knuckles white, his nails dig into your flesh as you press the knife into his. your pulse quickens, unrest brewing in your lungs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he laughs, his voice deep and filled with malice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i look forward to it.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. envy; ( baby, you could be the death of me )</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <span class="small">modern/reincarnation!au</span>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="small">in each and every world you are born into, there are no endings. there are only constants and the burden of all the sorrows you have held in each lifetime. fate has never been one to side with you, so you smile bitterly; perhaps it is simply because you stopped believing in her long ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you have known happiness, but never peace. with each breath of relief comes a wave of distress, because in one moment, you would be side by side with your crewmates, and in the next, you would stand before their dead bodies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( chaos was meant for you, the gods decided, but you were never meant for chaos.<br/>
--<i>how wicked and cruel divinity is, to spread their suffering to the innocent</i>. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">in this life, you do not fight. not yet. bloodshed is woven into your soul; <i>you know nothing else but that</i>. it is the calm before the storm, and you are waiting. in this life, solace does not come and go as it pleases. it chooses to stay with you, and you think that is more frightening than anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">in the gentle haze of the morning, you wake to the feeling of belial's arms wrapped around you. he sleeps soundly, raven locks disheveled as his head rests against your chest. you’ve never figured out how his hair worked, fingers gently fixing the messy strands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">how strange it is, to carry hatred and greed for each other in every other life but this one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">what is it that makes this cycle different? neither you nor belial have done anything to deserve a kind life. perhaps this would be the end of all. perhaps the gods have given you one last chance to make amends. there is a strange comfort at the thought; to live and die without means of rebirth would be a gift.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( such silly fantasies. you could get on your knees and pray for mercy and it would never matter in the end. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you smile wearily at the bruises and marks adorning your skin-- that, you think, is the most familiar thing you’ve yet to see in this life. it’s no different in his case, harsh crimson lines trailing down his back. you pause-- and the smile falters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">the remnants of his past have followed him, scars on his back where his wings once were. he shifts slightly when your fingers stop running through his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“stop acting like you’re asleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he smiles against your skin, lips pressing kisses on the bites he’s left across your chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“now, now,” he teases, “you know i don’t fake in bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i’d kill you if you did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“talking dirty to me again? if you wanted another round, you could have just asked and i would have eagerly--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“<i>shut up</i>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he laughs, but says nothing more as you trace the scars tenderly, almost as if you were afraid it’d hurt him. there’s still amusement on his face as he watches you; you wonder what’s on his mind as you avoid his gaze. you’re one to wear your heart on your sleeve, belial notices; he cannot count how many times he witnessed raw anger flash in your eyes or absolute grief that you failed to hide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he’d always find it funny-- and what a blessing it was to watch you rise and fall over and over and over again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">now, there is a strange melancholy in your eyes. a tranquil one, he observes, and he bites back the snide remarks that come to mind. in the morning light, there’s a different feeling between you two, but belial doesn’t mind it too much. what a waste it would be to lose the opportunity to indulge in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“do you miss it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“miss what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">your thoughts come to a stop. <i>everything</i>-- because how can you describe thousands of years in a mere sentence? you swallow hard. ( for some reason, there’s a lump in your throat. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“the chaos. you’re always chasing it, aren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he lets go of you and sits up, raising a brow when you grab the sheets to cover your bare body. he supposes you’re correct; just like violence stains your soul, chaos corrupts his. he finds everything to be too boring, too dull, and too unbearable amidst peace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">ah, but in this case--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he likes your presence. he always has, though your relationship has never been considered ideal. to sit here with you in the quiet sunlight is an experience he thinks he enjoys all the more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he tilts his head thoughtfully, albeit dramatically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“you would miss me, wouldn’t you?” a grin. “if i left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i wouldn't. i really wouldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“always so shy.” he murmurs, pulling you into his lap. “besides, between you and me, i think we create enough chaos, don’t we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“in a world where we’re enemies that are trying to murder each other, yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">belial smiles. your stubbornness is something that will follow you to hell and back, apparently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“out of the <i>kindness</i> of my heart, i’ve always extended the olive branch to you, haven’t i?” he kisses your wrist slowly, crimson eyes meeting yours as he feels your pulse. “the offer still stands.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">disgustingly mischievous as always. your breath catches in your throat as he wraps an arm around your waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“you don’t like peace.” you whisper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“and you don’t know it.”  he responds, lips eagerly leaving marks on your neck. “should i teach you my version of it? we’ve got all the time in the world now, don’t we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">oh, how dangerous belial is, you’re reminded. you stare hard at him, his smile arrogant, lazy, and almost sincere in the oddest ways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“given your hypocritical mess of a personality, i would say no in any other situation.” you answer, your thumb tracing over his curled lips. “but i’ll bite this time, belial. so teach me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you kiss him harshly, almost angrily, but he is greedy and selfish and wanting of it all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( --what a cowardly game the world plays, tying your fates together in each and every life. belial almost despises it-- this sense of control he fails to grasp in his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">but if it involves you, he thinks, then he'll gladly do what he can to enjoy it to the fullest. )</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. greed; ( the lion / the lamb )</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="small"></span></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <span class="small">( darling,<br/>
in my heart i’m tearing you apart. )<br/>
.    .    .</span>
  </p>
</div><span class="small"><b>i</b>.<br/>crimson splatters across porcelain, violently and wondrously. there are too many corpses around you ( but that’s good, <i>that’s good, better them than you</i> ). your reflection surfaces on the red that pools before your knees. slowly, it crawls towards you, but never reaches. </span><p>
  <span class="small">the resignation in your soul has gotten the best of you and the fight in your eyes has left too long ago. but your savior has more hope in you than the world does ( --<i>what a stupid thought to fathom</i>, you both think, but neither of you are smiling this time ).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you look up and see the fallen, gazes matching and even. his wings drip with sanguine; how fitting it is for raven to be adorned with such a dreadful hue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small"><i>thank you</i>, you think to say, but the words fail to come out.<br/>
“it’ll leave a stain, the blood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he hums thoughtfully, fingers tracing the crimson on your face.<br/>
“on what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small"><b>ii</b>.<br/>
you sense him now, in the darkness. you couldn’t do that before. his silhouette is all too a familiar sight lately. it is a fool’s game, to guess if he will greet you with lust or loneliness. ( one day, maybe it will be both. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">the bed creaks at his weight and you welcome him just as any lover would; in the back of your mind, you wonder if he would do the same for you. there’s comfort to be found in his warmth and the hauntings that lay regret in your being dissipate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you stay silent, and he listens to the beat of your heart. how times have changed; back then, even his mere presence would make your heart beat so quickly you feared it would burst. he smiles faintly, genuinely, but not even the moonlight allows you to see it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( <i>how lovely</i>, he thinks, closing his eyes, <i>this slow and steady pulse</i>. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small"><b>iii</b>.<br/>
and you don’t think you can ever forgive his sins ( darling,<br/>
he is drowning in them-- <i>you didn’t forget that, did you</i>? )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">but you’re no saint either / and you both know this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you stare at the mirror, desolate and covered in fresh marks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i think you saved me so you could kill me yourself.” you pause, your throat dry. “that’s the only way you’ll let me die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">his eyes widen-- and a flash of surprise appears, followed by something too foreign. you almost sense betrayal in his countenance, but the wistful sigh that escapes his lips disregards the thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he searches for the right words to say, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder. neither denial nor confirmation can be found in his thoughts, so he stays silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( in the night, when you are sleeping at his side, he quietly wonders if he is sorry. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small"><b>iv</b>.<br/>
( &amp; when the gods ask if you are in love,<br/>
you will laugh, choking on your tears.<br/>
<i>i don’t know</i>. )</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. pride; ( & so you search for a redemption that does not exist )</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="small"></span></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <span class="small"><br/>
( you can’t make homes out of human beings<br/>
someone should have already told you that )</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span class="small">.    .    .</span>
  </p>
</div><span class="small"><b>i</b>.<br/>you fall to your knees before the ruins of the altar ; fear rips your voice from your throat, and the thought of prayer feels too ugly and rotten and leaves you too barren. fatigue latches onto you, your eyes and heart heavy with weariness. you cannot think to move, chest heaving as your vision blurs with hot tears.</span><p>
  <span class="small">to know despair is to drown in it, to be familiar with it and bury it inside a timid soul. it is taking you whole, just as he does, and you cannot escape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“you look good on your knees.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you do not answer. blood drips from your cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“what are you praying for?” he approaches you slowly, arms crossed. “i’ve always been good at giving people what they want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">your nails dig into your skin, violently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i’m not praying.” you never take your eyes off the altar. “there are better things to do than beg the gods to save a fallen angel, aren’t there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small"><b>ii</b>.<br/>
this time, he is the one who kneels before you. you thought this would feel better, that it would taste like divinity, but it’s only chaos and corruption and rust. it makes you feel sick to your stomach, and you do not think this feeling will ever dissipate. your fingers grasp his hair tightly; you lower yourself to his level, whispering softly in his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i feel sorry for you.” you murmur, but there is a hatred in your words, and his breath hitches at the sound of it. “i wonder when you will stop ruining yourself, belial.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">your fist tightens at the low chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“do you think beasts were meant for greater things?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you freeze, fingers instinctively releasing their hold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“do you think you were only meant for ruin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he smiles, detached, and it lacks malice. that, you think, is the most dreadful and bittersweet of all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( you hate him, you hate him, <i>you hate him</i>. )</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. lust; ( softly, your decaying heart beats )</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <span class="small">first line from 'this is how you lose the time war' by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone</span>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="small"></span></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <span class="small">( every time love's written in all the strands it will be to you )</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span class="small">.    .    .</span>
  </p>
</div><span class="small">there's a red string wrapped around your throat, and you think that one day, it will kill you.</span><p>
  <span class="small">( <i>you can't always see it</i>, they say, <i>the red string of fate. but sometimes you can feel it, and when you do, you will know that you’ve found love.</i></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">lies. lying. liar. <i>liar.</i> )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you are bound through intimacy and longing and hatred and cowardice; you are bound by a malicious kind of love that intends to drown you together, and if you told the world, she would only laugh at your ungratefulness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">with every shallow breath, there is a fear in being. the feeling of suffocation lingers; each movement careful, every inhale and exhale shaky. you are trapped in too many ways to count. it would be too easy for the string to tighten around you, but it never does. it stays around your neck, unmoved, static-- not too loose, but not too tight. but you know how easily that could change.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he is too dangerous, the one on the other end of the red string.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">it wraps around his finger, and by the gods do you <i>hate</i> him. you hate him, you hate the world, and you hate fate, most of all, for being merciful on a fallen angel who has sinned more than you will ever know. it would only take a mere tug; a slight mistake, one extra step-- it would take nothing and you would be fighting for breath, and he knows this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">"we are bound, you and i." belial reminds you, and he is everything you have ever hated and loved, all at once. "are you still begging the three fates?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">the fury in your veins burns faintly-- weakened from constant defeat, but still present.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">"don't you tire of this? we could run away from each other, but it'd never matter in the end. there is only us and <i>nothing</i> else. we are intertwined in each and every step of the way."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he almost looks puzzled; he stares at you thoughtfully with a hint of surprise and smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">"i've never been one to count my blessings." his fingers trail down your neck, and the smile grows into a grin. "but with you, maybe i should start, no?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">"thousands of years into this life and you want to start acting holy now?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">"better late than never," he shrugs, and for some reason, the string feels constricting, though you hardly notice it as his hands rest on your hips, "so why don't you show me how?"</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. [ revenant ]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <span class="small">quote from metropolis by lexie liu</span>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="small"></span></p>
<p></p><div><p><span class="small">( you bring my devastation<br/>if i could take it / it would bring me comfort )</span></p>
<p><span class="small"><b> .     .     .</b></span></p></div><span class="small">INSIDE OF YOU THERE IS ;</span>
<p>
  <span class="small"><b>AN ANGEL</b>: “i almost ended the world once.” belial confesses. he is an angel filled with deceit and unknown intentions, but you know he is not lying this time. it is not the worst thing that has come out of his mouth, and you want to laugh at the strange musing. your lips press against his in wanting and his grasp on you tightens and leaves half moons indented in your flesh. another remnant of him that he leaves on you-- one that will soon fade and be replaced. you want to ask why he chose not to. why he changed his mind. but the question dies down in your throat, and all you can ask is:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“do you regret it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">
    <i>do you regret this moment right now, here with me? if you had ended the world, would you have been sad knowing you lost this? have i at all made a difference in your existence?</i>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he reads you like an open book, carved intricately with words of sophistication and alluring beauty. his fingers trace your spine, hands cold but comforting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“no, i don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small"><b>AN EVIL</b>: he cuts open his chest like it is a simple act of being, almost as if he has done this a thousand times. it is a reminder of his origins: an experiment. a waste. someone who has loved and loved but never been loved back. something aches in him, and grief is the only thing that surfaces in red eyes. there is no fear to be found but only in you. he breaks open his ribs and then you see nothing but blood. vacant. hollow. empty. you cannot tell if it is the tears or the utter terror that buries itself into a pit in your stomach that makes you see double.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he is being cruel. what does he want / <i>what does he want you to beg for?</i></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">but he is not laughing. it is horrendous and ugly and awful-- everything he does not want to be; everything he should have never been. he is nothing more than the undoing and failure of genesis. he unveils what should be sacred of himself, but there is nothing but destruction and the absence of--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small"><i>where did it go?</i> you ask; your voice thick and heavy with trepidation and mourning. <i>why do you bleed? where did it go, your heart?</i></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">
    <i>what have you done with it? <b>what have you done with it?</b></i>
  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. ( the absence of ) carnage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="small"></span></p>
<p></p><div><p><span class="small">( <i>but what do you know of love?<br/>i ask you to show me, so you lay your heart, barren and broken, on the concrete, awaiting devastation.</i><br/>&amp; so i tend to you, hands gentle and wanting,<br/>and whisper, <i>i will teach you</i>. )</span></p>
<p><span class="small"><b> .     .     .</b></span></p></div><span class="small">“are you lonely?”</span>
<p>
  <span class="small">fingers trace over his bare skin haphazardly. it leaves a burning sensation, one that lingers for longer than it should.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small"><i>in all your years of existence</i>, you wonder, <i>do you ache? have you ever been happy?</i></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“lonely?” belial tilts his head in feign curiosity. “i have you, don’t i?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">red eyes betray the false amusement that resonates in playful tones. there is something different in the way he looks at you tonight, a never forgotten sorrow drowning in a softened gaze. this is not fear he is feeling, he assures himself. it has been too long since he has felt such a thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">the way you pause, searching for an answer-- it takes too long. the seconds feel like minutes, and in the life he has been granted, again does he feel the urgency to be needed. wanted. loved. <i>seen</i>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">this conversation will not end the way he wants it to. maybe you will throw him away, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( it would be okay. he is used to it. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he thinks to know the answer, entirely prepared to brace himself for the impact of sharpened words, but there’s a cowardly hope that you will surprise him, just as you usually do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you can have him, all of him, and he will gladly give himself to you. but at the end of it all, you are too far out of his grasp. unobtainable. he remembers that every night as if to remind himself that there are no happy endings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you almost forget to speak. with the little space that hardly separates your bodies and his hand reaching for yours, your mind runs blank, and you are greeted with affection and corruption, all at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“you have me.” your voice almost breaks, and somehow, your mouth fills with poison.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. RETRIBUTION; ( AND THE DESERVING OF IT )</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="small"></span></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <span class="small">( the song of catastrophe morphs men into beasts. )<br/>
.    .    .</span>
  </p>
</div><span class="small">fingertips dance along pale skin, an animal desire to sink your nails into flesh. cold, cold, <i>cold. why are you so cold</i>? a corruption orders you to wrap your hands around his neck, to squeeze and squeeze his windpipe-- <i>destroy him</i>, they command, and the panic that emerges in your throat almost forces the air out of your lungs. <i>it would be so merciful. so beautiful -- a kindness on your part. kill him.</i></span><p>
  <span class="small">now your hands are trembling. corruption flows through your bloodstream. it burns, it hurts so bad. you want it to go away, leave you be, but forever in your existence remains a searing sensation in your ribs and your heart and your head-- and gods, <i>is it worth it? to sell your soul to save yourself from the edge of abyss? is this how you will find your ending?</i></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">how rotten and horrid it has turned you, trampling over a shaken humanity. the decline of a good heart is such a tragic thing. such a vulnerability that demands to be heard and seen. mourned; perhaps even celebrated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">belial frowns at your behavior-- wild eyes, almost like prey being hunted and seeing the end of tomorrow. it is undelightful, almost unsettling to see you like this. where is your strength? your fight? he is not the causation of your trepidation. his hand grabs onto yours, your fingers still itching to tighten themselves around his neck. underneath his perfection lies decay and the faintest pulse-- quiet, but found-- an indication of life. his touch is one that brings you back to the present, a saving grace granted by the worst of failures. you almost dare to laugh, a shaky exhale escaping in its place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“what did it taste like,” words almost unheard by a fallen angel, “when you swallowed all your grief?” <i>does it taste like the fear that dances on the tip of my tongue? will you be the undoing of my humanity? will i be the one to bring you peace in all these years? will i understand the feeling when it happens?</i></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“like blood.” belial answers, thumb tracing over your lips. the words lack the usual spite and callousness, instead laced with fondness and a taunting intrigue. “curious to try?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">his lips meet yours in an act of forgiveness and cruelty mottled into one; indistinguishable. a comfort, then a shattering devastation that blooms at your very core.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">it tastes bittersweet. chaotic, like a tragedy that leaves your bones and vessels cracked open and weeping. like the embers in the aftermath of war that remind you of the horrors witnessed and the ones that will follow you into the dreamscape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( it tastes like the beginning of the end,<br/>
&amp; it leaves you wanting. )</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. [ lessons on ] REVIVAL / THE CRUELTY OF THE PAST</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <span class="small">quote by ada limón</span>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="small"></span></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <span class="small">( i say something to god, but he’s not a living thing<br/>
so i say it to the river<br/>
i say / i want to walk through this doorway<br/>
but without all these ghosts on the edge<br/>
i want them to stay here / i want them to go on without me<br/>
<i>i want them to burn in the water</i>. )<br/>
.     .     .</span>
  </p>
</div><span class="small"><b>one</b>. flickering lights. a fallen angel, reborn, sits in the pews of a vacant church. glass stained art discolored by an absent sunlight, air heavy with repentance, and statues with blurred faces. you stand behind him, nails digging into rotten wood.</span><p>
  <span class="small">“this is the last place i’d expect you to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">belial does not turn to acknowledge you. he stares at the figure in the middle, the one with a thousand paintings and depictions spread across the world. humans have always been such a strange existence, he thinks, and you can almost hear the smile in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“you know i’ve always been one for good company.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">somewhere, you hear a song, a chanting, a worshipping, but all that remains in this empty space is you, belial, and the revisiting of previous lives. your eyes dart around. your blood runs cold. but nothing happens. the songs carry on, distant, then suddenly roaring in your ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i want to leave.” you say. you turn on your heel, focusing only on the double doors and ignoring desperation, but belial follows after.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“i’ve overstayed my welcome.” he says nonchalantly ( but his ears are ringing, too. ) “besides,” he adds with a grin, as if to provide distraction, “people here don’t like the idea of talking to someone named belial.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">an unseen choir sings louder now ( <i><b>go away go away go away go away GO AWAY</b></i> ), and you are not sure which is louder: the screeching voices or the beating of your heart. almost instinctively, you think to reach for his hand, but pride is a miserable demon and tells you otherwise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">but belial knows you. knows how you’ll act in every single life, whether a thousand or a hundred years ago. always the same. he grabs your hand and squeezes so tight it almost hurts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">there is a searing pain in his back. recognizable. the reminder of the wings mercilessly ripped away from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">he takes one look back, but you don’t dare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( the sculptures distort. he recognizes a smile, then the dripping of blood from worn stone. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small"><b>two</b>. you wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. a sharp pain in your head, an ache in your bones. at your side is a warm body, one you are mildly surprised to see at this hour. you expect him to come and go as he pleases, just as he once did before, but never in this life has he abandoned you. perhaps because you are all he knows now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you shiver violently under the covers, knuckles white as you cling to the sheets as if to anchor yourself to sanity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“we can never forget, can we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you speak softly-- to yourself, more than anything, but you know how little he sleeps. he stirs slightly, turns on his side to face you, and takes in the sight of a fearful being. <i>pitiful</i>, he’d taunt, but his scars burn so viciously he almost understands your terror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">“do you want to? should i distract you, then? take your mind off things?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you nod, silence speaking volumes, and seek refuge in his touch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( <i>yes</i>, you say, trembling from the movement of his fingers, <i>don’t you</i>?
his lips press against your neck, feeling a distant pulse underneath marked skin.<br/>
<i>yes</i>, he answers, but the words go unheard, and again, you find a haven in his arms. )
</span></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. the sending</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <span class="small">quote by f.d. soul</span>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <span class="small"><br/>      </span>
  </p>
  <p>( YOU WILL PERHAPS BECOME MY SWAN SONG ) </p>
  <p>
        <b> .     .     .</b>
      </p>
</div><span class="small"><br/>    <i>which is more corrupted? the soul or a body drenched in crimson? </i><br/>  </span>
<p>
  <span class="small">"now now," belial taunts, a weakness and a fading in a mischievous voice, "i thought you would enjoy this more." behind the partial amusement lies a: <i>how did you think this would end? we are star-crossed lovers, after allor: <b>DID YOU THINK WE COULD BOTH LIVE IN THE END? THIS WORLD IS MEANT FOR RUIN, AND ONLY ONE OF US IS MEANT TO SURVIVE IT.</b></i> )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">"you talk too much." your words are jagged with dulled edges, a forced cruelty and sharpness lacking within it. you shake violently, red hands cupping his face. there's blood everywhere, but neither of you think it is beautiful. your heart bleeds at the absence of his, his body adorned with cuts and bruises and fatal wounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( because of you. because of you. you did this. you're going to kill the harbinger of the end, and you love him. <i>you love him</i>. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">your vision blurs. your eyes sting. he feels your tears drop on his face; they trail down, leave a warmth, and he smiles. <i>how wasteful. pitiful, really, to cry for someone so horrid</i>. the pain radiates throughout his body. it hurts-- a different kind of hurt, almost a mourning that he is unfamiliar with ( but what does he mourn for? he knows of loss, but not the loss of one who loves him back. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">"you didn't go deep enough, darling." he almost laughs, but the pain intensifies, "you'll have to try harder if you want me to feel anything."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">( <i>you can be the one to take me out of this misery</i>, the fallen angel thinks, watching as your bloodied hands grasp the weapon so hard you might break it. <i>if there is anyone to do it, how delightful it would be if it were you</i>. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">the tears are falling harder now. your instincts fight each other, the urge to save almost overwhelming the urge to kill. but you know better, and so you betray your heart in a means of selflessness. he shuts his eyes. you almost see red at how peaceful he looks, but everything goes into a haze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">you bring the weapon down, one last time, and the world goes quiet, if for a moment, before the blood spreads even further, and a choked sob falls upon deaf ears.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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